Cooking with Rick
by refreshingbeverage
Summary: Few people know it, but Rick is one hell of a cook. But, as even the best cooks do, he makes the occasional mistake. That’s not to say that he doesn’t learn from it though. Implied slash Horatio/Rick. Based on true stories.
1. Oh yeah

More to come if you ask for it. I just got bored while waiting for my empanadas to bake so I threw this together. This wouldn't exactly be a scheduled thing tho…

Itty bitty little short stories, let's have a go at it.

I do not own or claim to own CSI: Miami characters. This is fanmade and I make absolutely no profit off of this. I do this for my own amusement.

***

**Oh yeah…**

Horatio Caine looked up from the mixing bowl and smirked at the man standing across the kitchen from him. Anyone could tell that Rick was a little distracted; a new episode of his favorite cooking show was coming on in a matter of minutes, he would be incredibly frustrated with himself if he dare miss it. However, at the same time, Rick was determined to finish the cake he was baking within two hours. Which means, of course, that Horatio got drafted into mixing the stubborn ingredients while Rick measured out everything else.

Rick looked over at the oven clock, he had been checking it about once every two minutes.

"15 minutes to go," he muttered as he scooped cocoa into his measuring cup.

"You're not going to miss _Cake Art_," Horatio groaned, rolling his eyes, "and if you did, it wouldn't be the end of the world".

"But this time Jerry makes the New York skyline… out of CAKE!"

"They make everything out of cake. Why must you drive that point home every time you discuss the show?"

"Did you ever TRY sculpting cake?" Rick snapped, accidently spilling a bit of flour on himself.

"…no," Horatio blushed.

"It's really hard!"

"I'm sorry".

"Oh, it's okay," Rick sighed, smiling lightly, "Are the butter and sugars combined yet?"

"Yeah".

Rick stepped over to the refrigerator and took out two eggs, placing them on the table. He also took out some milk, which he proceeded to pour into a measuring cup.

As Rick stood there pouring, one of the eggs began to slowly roll towards the edge of the table. Horatio looked up at the other man, wondering when he was going to make the move to get it. He would get it himself, except it was just out of arm's reach.

As the egg got closer and closer to the edge, Horatio looked up at Rick. He was pouring the milk, but the egg had definitely caught his attention. He stood there, watching it ever so slowly roll.

"Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"Aren't you going to get that?"

"Get what?"

"The egg!"

"What about it?"

The two of them watched as the egg finally tipped over the edge and rushed to meet the floor. In the next instant, the ground was covered in pieces of raw egg. Horatio looked up at Rick, wondering why he didn't react.

Rick pouted as he stared down at the splattered egg, looking a little disappointed.

"Oh yeah," he thought aloud, the pout clear in his voice, "those things break".

He looked up to see Horatio with his face buried in his palm, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back laughter. But, alas, he couldn't hold back for long. Soon he had fallen out of his chair and was rolling around on the floor, giggling like a maniac. A smile crossed Rick's face as he realized his lapse in thought. He blushed lightly as he quietly laughed along with Horatio.

"Rick," Horatio gasped between guffaws, "Did you forget that eggs are fragile?"

"…maybe".


	2. Flan

I thought this series could use another episode. Based on a true story (because all that frustration has to be worth something).

* * *

**Flan**

Horatio stirred from his horizontal position on the couch. Eyes fluttering open, he discovered that he had fallen asleep watching the late late movie on TV. The large screen in his living room flickered blue light onto the otherwise dark walls. Eyes drifted over to the digital clock on the cable box. 2:17 am. No wonder he was tired.

Stretching as he sat up, Horatio got to wondering what had pulled him out of his nap in the first place. He could clearly remember Rick announcing that he was going to bed and requesting the volume turned down. Whatever happened on the show couldn't have been loud enough to wake him up. He sat there pondering until a loud and familiar "beep", the answer to his question, nearly scared him out of his skin.

Rubbing the sleep-crust out of his eyes, the redhead turned off the television and walked into the kitchen to investigate what the microwave could possibly be doing at this ungodly hour. Every light in the kitchen was on, leaving Horatio to blink and stare at one of the brightly lit walls to keep from immediately blinding himself. Hearing a soft little sniffle come from the room only made Horatio wake up faster and decide to poke his head in before his eyes adjusted.

Rick Stetler was sitting on the floor in front of the stove, wearing only a pair of sleep pants. He was slouched over, pouting, and his big brown eyes shining with tears that were welling up behind them; breaths were only coming as deep sighs. Horatio had only seen that expression on his lover's face a few times, but he had learned to hate it.

"Rick," he cooed as gently as he possibly could, "are you alright? What's wrong?"

The younger man ran a hand down his face and leaned back, letting himself fall onto the cold tile floor. "I'm fine, Horatio," he sighed, trying to pull himself together, "just a little overtired".

In all honesty, Rick was closer to snapping and throwing an all-out tantrum than he had been in the past 46 years. He had to keep his hands busy, fearing that if he didn't he would end up breaking something out of frustration.

Horatio sighed, knowing that Rick was either on the verge of tears or destruction. Maybe both. The older man padded across the white tiles to the brunette, sitting down next to him and scooping him into his arms.

"May I ask what you're doing in the kitchen at this hour?" Horatio whispered, running his fingers through his lover's soft brown hair.

Rick sighed deeply before he responded, not wanting his voice to crack. "It's Molly's birthday tomor- today. I offered her to bake her a dessert, and I completely forgot about it until I was already in bed".

Horatio nodded, knowing full well why Rick would kick himself if he forgot about this. Molly was his personal assistant and one of his best friends, she was far too important for Rick to forget about her birthday.

"She requested," he continued, talking slowly and steadily, hoping that Horatio will help him, "that I make her some flan". Deep breath. "I've never made flan before. I've never had flan before. I've never even seen flan before, only pictures".

The redhead didn't know why he didn't notice it before, but the kitchen did smell pretty sweet. Rick's frustration was probably making it bitter to him. Six little blue glass dessert cups were sitting on a tray on top of the stove, cooling. He concluded that nothing was burnt, so he pressed on. "And the flan isn't really agreeing with you?"

"The flan is being downright mean to me," Rick whined, turning in towards his lover's belly and trying to calm himself. Horatio smirked, going back to petting Rick's hair. "I think I forgot something and have to start all over again. And I don't think I have the patience".

"Why do you think you forgot something?"

"Because it's all yellowish gold and custardy and caramelized," he groaned, "it never seems done, and the texture must be horrible".

"Well, let met taste it. Can you sacrifice one?"

Rick nodded and the redhead set him up against a nearby counter. He pulled a small dish out of the cabinet and turned one of the small flan-filled dishes onto it. It smelled really good, and he could hardly wait to dig a spoon into it.

"Wait," Rick commanded, holding up his hand and pulling himself to his feet. "Let me taste it first. I don't want you to have anything I make that turned out sub-par".

Reluctantly, Horatio handed the dish over to his overtired lover. He watched as Rick took half a bite before shaking his head.

"No. And now I'm probably going to stay up all night before I figure out what I did wrong. Not to mention that I only get one more shot at this recipe because there is only one can of evaporated milk left".

The younger man was starting to hyperventilate, trying to keep himself from bursting into tears of frustration.

"Now hold on," Horatio cooed, taking the dish from Rick, "and breathe. If you keep that up, you'll make yourself faint. Now, it can't be that bad. So, I'm just going to try a bite".

Rick's watery eyes widened as Horatio took the spoon back and stuffed a large bite of the stuff into his mouth. A few tears began to spill down the younger man's cheeks as he watched helplessly. Under all normal circumstances, Horatio would have been sent on a horrible guilt trip just by the sight of those few drops. But he couldn't focus on Rick. The flan had his undivided attention.

"Rick," he said, a little irritated at the big buildup he got, "this is the best flan I've ever tasted".

"Don't just say that when you know I have to start over".

"I'm serious".

Rick sniffled as he was handed the spoon. He took another bite and grimaced.

"It's horrible".

"Rick, I think you just don't like flan".

"Is it supposed to taste like this?"

"Yeah".

Rick looked down at the partially consumed flan that was sitting on his plate, hating it with every fiber of his being. His redheaded lover gently took the plate from Rick's hands.

"Go to bed," he whispered, "you've had a long day".

Rick didn't even have the energy to protest as he watched Horatio overturn the flan onto a large serving platter, each dessert falling out perfectly. After the used dishes were put in the sink, the redhead turned to usher Rick out of the kitchen. Rick, however, apparently was perfectly content sleeping on the floor.

Sighing and trying not to roll his eyes, Horatio pulled Rick into his arms and picked him up. For the first time he saw the batter that had crusted itself into the younger man's chest fur and onto the soft fabric of his sleep pants. That and his hands were sticky from working with caramel.

Slowly and carefully, Rick was carried out of the kitchen; Horatio turning off the light as they made their way up into the bedroom.

FIN


End file.
